Crystal Angel Meets Deadpool
by AlternateUniverseExplorer
Summary: Man, it's been three years since I last posted a story onto . Here is my newest story about my own Marvel character, Crystal Angel. After discovering her new powers and her new heroine attire, she rescues an autistic child and of course...meets Deadpool.


I almost felt like a new woman, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. I adored the sight of my new silky dress, along with the feeling of wearing it, despite how I hoped how the lack of cleavage showing would not make me seem less of a woman to the society I grew up in. On each long sleeve, five stars were in a light shade of grey almost resembling silver. The cloud pattern at the bottom of the dress had the same shade so that my attire can make me feel like I was meant to fly during both the day and the night. Due to how insecure I can be when I dress less modestly, I was always sure to wear a pair of grey leggings with the dress. Using my enhanced vision, I gazed at a close up of the gold buckle of my belt. Two angel wings that were in the same shapes of the wings printed on the back of my dress. Looking back at my face whilst dragging the moist tip of my lipstick tube across my bottom lip, I knew I needed to think about what my new heroine name could be, as suggested by my hypnotherapist. Not only did he lend me a pair of white mid-calf boots with low heels to go with my attire, but he also informed me that I needed to practise my telekinetic ability quite often after discovering it.

I even took some time to put my lipstick back on the table with my hand, remain still with both of my hands at my tights and try to place the lid over the tip with my telekinesis. The progress was a bit wobbly at first, but I refused to give up. With enough concertation, I managed to conceal the tip of the lipstick with the power coming from my eyes. Turning around to my desk and reflecting on the wings of my belt and the back of my dress, I thought carefully about my new heroine name. Then, I had a feeling that I thought of a good final decision. I held my hands out to my notebook and foundation pen, letting my telekinesis slowly and steadily bring them to me, despite a few wobbles. I then secured the notebook with my grip and watched the button on the pen press with a smile on my face as I strongly believed the final choice for a heroine name would suit me and my traits extremely well. On a clear page, the pen gracefully wrote down "Crystal Angel" under my telekinetic power. The word "Crystal" was to represent how my advanced vision and my ultrasonic hearing are as clear as crystal when I see and hear things from quite long distances away and the word "Angel" was a reference to how my taxi driver would call me that. With a set of superpowers and a new heroine name, I hoped that they would add to the refreshing experience of starting a new life in Canada. I believe that none of it would have happened if I stayed in England.

About two minutes later, I was testing my ability to fly in the mild breeze within the city. It was the easiest power to master as I was sure to only fly as high as I needed to. My enhanced senses engaged, being the second easiest. I heard about four sparrows chirp in harmony with my ultrasonic hearing, as well as a pack of Canadian folks being friendly towards one another several miles away from me. I even took a little time to try and pick up an empty can on the ground with my telekinetic power and drop it into a recycling bin. Compared to my previous attempts, the one with the can seemed and felt much steadier. I was quite pleased with myself for doing so as I would certainly try to use my powers for a good cause. The same progress repeated for an empty crisp packet as I popped it into the litter bin that was semi-attached to the recycling bin. Thus, the result was also much smoother. Looking at the pink watch around my left wrist, I knew that I would have plenty of time to practise my powers outside of my new house. I never felt so delightedly and independently carefree. Did I truly deserve this refreshing change of scenery for my mental well-being? If so, then I was sure to not take it for granted. Not one damn bit.

But suddenly when my vision zoomed into the distance ahead, I could not believe what I saw! At a multistorey car park, a man in a brown coat had a bottle of bleach in his left hand. I also could not believe I heard him claim that he was using the bleach to try and "cure" his daughter's autism. I could sense that the rise of intolerance and prejudice against those on the autism spectrum was still at large. No wonder I wanted a cure for mine before I got my powers. I may have wanted to become neurotypical to avoid oppression and humiliation, but I always knew that something as incredibly life-threatening as drinking bleach will never be a solution. Disgusted at the sign of his deplorable efforts, I soared towards the scene of the crime. As I frowned, I heard another man making a rather snarky remark against him, telling him how foolish he was. He also told the crook's daughter to look away and that he was not going to hurt her. It motivated me to fly faster and caused me to whimper faintly. Getting closer, I opened my mouth in great concern and then gasped as I heard a loud gunshot. I also detected the foul scent of gun powder and groaned in disgust whilst floating into the car park. I had no bulletproof vest and I loathed the sensations from sensing the use of a gun, but I knew something had to be done.

Finally after another discomforted grunt, I made it to the scene of two crimes for the price of one. The other man was in a red and black suit with two katanas on his back and a pistol in his hand. As he took notice of me, I bared my teeth in astonishment at his strikingly intimidating attire as he put his pistol in the pouch at his right thigh.

"Don't look at me!" he exclaimed, pointing at the body of the man next to the bottle of bleach that has been spilled onto the ground. "He started it!" I then looked back to the child in such sincere concern. Once she heaved and started to cry, I swooped down to her and scooped her up as efficiently and caringly as I could, partly using my telekinesis to prevent any further contact with the bleach.

"I got you, bab!" I said to her, taking her away from her father's lifeless body. "Please don't be scared. I'm here to help you."

"Dang, you beat me to it!" the man in the attire that concealed his entire body exclaimed again, catching my attention for a brief moment. Cradling the sick child who began to gag, I knew what had to be done.

"Fret not, sir!" he called out to the mysterious person. "I can take the child to the hospital because I can fly!" I then lifted off whilst holding the weeping child securely.

I soared out of the car park, hearing the child's fearful whimpering. I was still feeling disgusted at how a parent would do something so horrible to their offspring, but I still wanted to remain calm enough to reassure her.

"I-I feel sick, miss!" she wailed, clinging onto me. "I-I don't like heights!"

"Hold on, darling!" I told the distraught girl, flying lower. "Just don't look down. I'm taking you to the hospital now! I think it's just a few miles north!" I gently kissed her on the forehead, feeling the heat of her fear sure to fly as quickly as possible. Thinking quickly to try and reduce her bawling whilst getting a decent close up of the hospital's exterior, I took a deep breath and began to croon a melody. The little girl began to heave hoarsely and then she fell silent. Looking back down at her, I noticed that her smile and a blink from her to me were the signs that my singing was the key to keep her calm. Her tears were all dried up below the redness around her glossy blue eyes. I smiled back as I sang my last line.

"L-lovely singing, l-lady." she squeaked just before feeling the symptoms and whimpering again. Before I became Crystal Angel in Canada, I have been told that I sounded lovely when I sang back in England. The second best thing next to being able to help someone in critical need in the present was not being told to not do something and leave it to a neurotypical person.

I arrived at the hospital. Quickly taking her inside through the automatic doors, I managed to spot two doctors who took notice of her new wave of cries in pain after floating through a hallway as many people watched me in disbelief. I could tell that the horrific symptoms were still kicking in.

"Excuse me, sir and madam," I called out hurriedly. "I am sorry to bother you both, but it's an emergency!" I handed the child to the male doctor who was distraught at her gagging. "Some horrible man tried to make his daughter drink bleach to "cure" her autism."

"That's horrible!" the female doctor replied in disgust as I rushed through the halls with them. "Autism should not be treated like it is a disease because it is not!" It was such a relief to hear another claim that defended the autism spectrum after all of the misunderstandings and prejudice against it I have witnessed before becoming a potential heroine.

"Exactly!" the male doctor agreed before thanking me and heading off to an emergency room as me and the female doctor slowed down and stopped. She then turned back to me. "Thank you so much for informing us, sweetie. We'll do the best we can to get her stomach pumped." Before saying goodbye to her and flying away, I asked her to wish the male doctor and some others the best of luck on giving her the treatment she needed. I also wished that all would go well for the people in the waiting room as I soared back to the automatic doors, then swooped through them with a sigh of relief.

As relieved as I was that I was able to find some reliable doctors for the girl, I was also sure to fly back to the car park to thank the mysterious man in a red and black suit. Although, I thought about what he did and believed that there could have been a better way to serve justice. I was sure to detect the exact location with my enhanced vision and try to pick up the smell of a crook's death, which of course came from the child's abuser. Floating quietly into the same storey of the car park, I sensed that the one who took the abuser's life paced off somewhere else. I cautiously searched around the car park and eventually spotted the same suit and pair of katanas.

"Hello. Excuse me, sir." I calmly called out to him once again, catching his attention.

"Who are you calling "sir", toots?" the man in red and black replied as he turned to me, sounding quite snarky in a rather pleasing Canadian guy's voice.

"Please don't be alarmed." I begged softly. "I'm the same girl who took the child to the hospital." My statement made those two white eyes widen.

"Oh, where are my manners? It's good to see you looking gorgeous again." Whilst I was flattered by that compliment, I had my hands rubbing gently together as I hovered near him.

"Not only do I thank you for that lovely comment, but I also want to thank you so much for stopping that horrid man." I landed on my two feet, still looking at the two blank eyes of his mask.

"Ah, he had it coming. Too bad he missed the opportunity to be on Dr. Phil, but he was no good for this world anyway, including bullshit showbiz."

"However," I continued, losing my smile as my hands repelled. "I think that killing him was not the best solution. Why didn't you just take him to the police after simply knocking him unconscious, so that he could go to prison?"

"Because he'd probably break out of prison and we'd have to deal with that shit again!" the man answered rather coarsely. "You don't wanna see another kid being forced to drink fucking bleach, do you? And I don't think the police would take too kindly to a katana-wielding guy in a suit like mine." I understood where he was coming from, but I carried on protesting.

"Still...taking the life of a foe is just a step too far, sir." I was gradually pacing up to him without hesitation whilst expressing my slight disagreement. "It's not what heroes do! At least in my eyes anyway…"

"Aren't you a little angel?" he teased in a soft and honeyed tone, tapping my nose with the tip of his index finger. He may have caused me to sigh and frown in annoyance by sounding rather patronizing to me, but I continued to listen to him as he raised his tone. "Come on, sweetcheeks! Don't look at me like that! I'm no hero. I'm a bad guy who hunts down even worse guys. Therefore, I fucking kill them. Simple as that." I was quite shocked at his statement but fascinated at it at the same time.

"So you're an anti-?" The man shushed me, placing the same finger to my lips.

"You don't have to ask me if you've already figured that out in your mind," he whispered with his sly and comedic charm. "I can tell that you have by the look in those beautiful eyes of yours." I have always found a compliment on my eyes very flattering, so I bared a sweet grin, thus his finger slipped away from it.

"So tell me, missy." the man commanded before asking, "What's your name? Like, your full name, so I don't end up mistaking another woman with the same first name for you."

"My real name shall not be mentioned, sir." I was sure that I did not want to tell him my real name for the sake of self-protection, especially for my true identity. "My heroine name is Crystal Angel."

"What a coincidence, considering how I said you were a little angel, along with how obvious this piece of literature's title is!" I giggled in agreement, fond of his ability to break a certain wall. As intimidated I was at how he would carry two katanas on his back, two pistols at his thighs and a knife at his left calf, I was charmed by such an ability. "And there's no need to call me "sir", okay? Just call me Deadpool." With two nods in a row, I was sure to remember his name, even though it sounded rather odd to me.

"Maybe we can work together some time, Deadpool." I kindly suggested, smiling in hopefulness. "Well, as long as there will be no killing on my behalf."

"I don't think so, sweetheart." I gave Deadpool a rather puzzled look. "You're a sweet and pretty young woman and all, but we don't seem to have much in common. They wouldn't hire a pacifist to do duties like mine as they usually involve killing. By your accent, I can tell that you're British, so you totally wouldn't use a gun. I bet you wouldn't even TRY to kill some motherfucker who purposely tries to kill you."

"Nor would I want to," I said, folding my arms with a stern expression. "It's just not the answer, nor in my nature."

"Would you rather kick him in the balls?" I raised my eyebrows and paused. I was not expecting him to ask me a question like that at all.

"Ummm…yes?"

"You know, I'm quite surprised that you didn't choose to call yourself "Crystal Pigeon" because you'd just fly away from a crook and his balls like a pigeon." He then proceeded to flap his hands and make a pigeon noise, causing me to become annoyed again. I scowled at his mockery. "Come on now, at least I didn't call you "Crystal Chicken". Lighten up." He even began to gently pinch my cheeks in a rather childish manner. "Aside from that, I think I know why they'd call you "Crystal Angel". It's because you have an angel face." I could smell Deadpool's cockiness and flirtatiousness, especially from the breath steaming through his mask. The scent did not bother me very much and I was relieved that my makeup routine before my good deed seemed to be worth it. Nevertheless, I knew I should have shown him a tougher example of my telekinesis whilst taking the child away from her abusive father's corpse. That way, he would have thought before he would mock me. I decided that it was time for me to test my abilities elsewhere. I did not want to ruin my gratitude towards Deadpool, even though I firmly pulled his hands away from my face.

"I'll be on my way now. I hope you can at least take what I truly stand for into consideration if we ever meet again." Still grateful for how he stopped a child abuser's unacceptable deed, I wanted to remain neutral and at least leave the masked rascal's presence with good terms, so I held my hand out in preparation for a handshake. "Good day, Mr. Deadpool." He took a hold of my hand and began to move it up and down in sync with its movement.

"Farewell, Miss Crystal Angel." During the handshake, I felt an unusual texture under the leather of his glove. "It was great talking to you…and teasing you." I knew the texture was skin, but I had a feeling that it must have been burnt or deformed at some point. "Keep rescuing kids and all that and you might get enough recognition for your very own movie. Oh, and don't worry. Shitty superhero movies are so the '90s." After a fairly neutral handshake with Deadpool, he made a phone gesture with his other hand. "Call me!" Lowering his hand and losing the gesture after a cheeky wink, he knew I was not interested since I have only just met him. "Or not. Your loss." My polar opposite and I turned away from each other after I thanked him for his assistance again. Just when I was about to head home to practice my telekinesis again after taking sixteen steps towards where I came into the car park, my ears detected a very faint whisper.

"Goody two white boots." I halted and turned around with my fists on my hips, enabling another flight for myself.

"I heard that, Deadpool!" I shouted to the witty brute, causing him to stop and turn back as well.

"Oh, so you have ultrasonic hearing too?!" he bellowed back to me. "Good for you!"

"Yes, I most certainly do! Along with other enhanced senses! Until then!"

"Try not to smell any dog shit or any dog's ass if you also have a dog's sense of smell!" Deadpool then responded in a high-pitched British-sounding tone, trying to sound like me, "Have a lovely day!" Irritated at his teasing, I had no choice, but to look away from his deviousness and fly away.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the next victim of a heinous crime turns out to be autistic too..." I muttered to myself. Apart from my ever-increasing fear of the persecution towards those on the autism spectrum, my irritation towards Deadpool gradually oozed out of my system as I soared. He seemed like a charming fellow with his engaging sense of humour and a daring dose of charisma, but I still found his motives to be rather questionable. For someone with the type of wittiness I am personally fond of, he was a bit of a nuisance to me at times. I ultimately knew he was as an antihero rather than a Class A criminal, which is why I could at least tolerate him and not consider him to be a complete bully. I just hoped that he would not wrongly accuse and execute an innocent person. Nonetheless, I still saw signs of heroism in him. After all, he did stop a cold-hearted and undereducated parent from nearly killing his child. As for my hypnotherapist who was very fond of my singing, I thought about meeting up with him again for more advice. On the other hand, I hoped to make it home on time just before my mother returned from work. Looking down at my watch again, I saw that I only had five minutes left. To ease the anxiety, I began to chant a melody once again but to myself. Maybe if I continue to be kind and empathetic in many horrific situations, I can be worthy.


End file.
